


you're the head on the spear

by sabinelagrande



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Dark, Betrayal, Community: kink_bingo, Dark!Sif, F/M, One of My Favorites, Semi-Public Sex, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki doesn't like surprises, but when they're surprises like Sif, he can thoroughly enjoy them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the head on the spear

The whole of Asgard must be talking by now: four warriors banished, the almost-king among them, the wrong prince- oh, if they only knew- on the throne. When they sing ballads of this day, Loki isn't sure whether he'll be the hero or the villain; he's also not sure he cares.

"Summon the Lady Sif," he tells one of his guards, after he's had enough of making her wait. This should be very entertaining, listening to her excuses.

It's a few minutes before she appears, kneeling before him. "My king," Sif says, crossing her arm over her chest.

"My lady," he replies. "From what I understand, I have you to thank for preserving my rule."

"As a warrior of Asgard, doing any less would be treason," she says mildly.

"As I recall, that hasn't stopped you before." He flicks his hand at the guards, and they scurry away. "I never expected it out of you," he says, offering her a hand up. "Betraying your closest friends."

"You should have," she says, standing, and he raises an eyebrow at her. "You think you've manipulated your way to the throne." She takes a step closer. "Who has been manipulating you, Loki?"

He snorts. "Oh, this will be amusing."

"You goaded Thor into going to Jotunheim, but I knew you were going to tell the guard, and I let you," she tells him. He frowns; there's no way he could have been careless enough as to give any signal. "I didn't need to see it happen, Loki. I know you."

He gives her a skeptical look. "Do you, now?"

"I always have," she says, and for a moment he imagines that she sounds sort of fond. "Perhaps you didn't know what was going to happen to your brother, but you knew something unfortunate would befall him. I don't know what you did to your father-"

"I didn't do _anything_ to my father," Loki says sharply.

She shrugs, apparently unconcerned. "Then you were merely opportunistic."

"And you weren't?" he returns.

"No," she says. "I convinced the Warriors Three to go to Midgard to aid Thor, and then I exposed the plot at the right time. That's planning, not opportunity. From the beginning, you've thought you were working alone, but that's far from the truth. I convinced even you that I was on Thor's side, but here I am."

Loki's mind reels as he tries to reposition everything that has happened, slotting in new information; he can't even be sure what of it is true, though he's already figuring out how to use it to his advantage. There's one thing he sees very clearly: he can never let this woman out of his sight again, and it's only partially because she's too dangerous for him to turn his back on her. "I could make you queen of Asgard."

"I made you king," she tells him.

He can't resist her for another moment. She knows what's coming, meeting him halfway, kissing him back fiercely. "I'm taking you to my chambers," he tells her, when he can tear himself away.

"Mine are closer," she responds, after another searing kiss.

"They're not worthy of you," he says.

"Show me what is," she challenges.

He glances around the room, struck by an idea. "Gladly," he says, holding out his hand, and she takes it, smirking. Her look turns curious when he leads her towards the throne, sitting her down and sinking to his knees in front of her. "This is what you deserve, my lady," he says, pushing her thighs open. She spreads them wider as he lifts the hem of her dress, hiking it up to her waist. She's not wearing anything underneath it; maybe this was in her plan too, that he wouldn't be able to resist her after he knew what she'd done, but this isn't the time to worry about his predictability. She sighs as he runs his fingers over her, relaxing against the throne. 

He looks up at her, admiring the sight of her; she looks like a queen, like a goddess, the perfect complement for the king of Asgard. He never expected to find someone like this, someone who understands the importance of planning, the necessity of ruthlessness. Perhaps he isn't as alone as he thought he was just a short time ago.

"You're dawdling," Sif tells him, and Loki smiles.

He leans in, licking her slowly, taking his time about it. Her fingers twine into his hair, pulling him close, urging him on. She earned every sweetly torturous second of it; she's proven herself to him, and soon he'll prove it to everyone, how much she deserves to be adored. He slides his long fingers into her, moving them just so, looking for the place inside her that will make her shake and moan. She's not difficult to please, and soon enough she's crying out, pressing his face against her as she comes.

He expects her to wait a moment, to calm down, but she stands instead, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him up. "Get on the throne where I put you," she orders, and a thrill goes through him; Loki doesn't like surprises, but when they're surprises like Sif, he can thoroughly enjoy them.

He sits down, and she barely lets him get settled before she's on top of him, reaching through the layers of his clothing to free his cock. He groans loudly as she lowers herself onto him, but if someone hears, let them hear. Let them know what he's doing, what he's getting, the fact that this singular and sublime woman is letting him have her.

He clutches at her as she starts to ride him, his fingers digging into her ass, her back. She's going mad on top of him, and he only wants more, to feel her come for him again and again and again. He presses his face to her chest, mouthing the tops of her breasts; she hastily pushes her dress down to give him better access, and he sucks one of her nipples into his mouth, determined to make her as desperate for him as he is for her.

The edge of the seat is cutting into his thighs, but it only serves as a reminder of where he is, what he is, what they are: he is the king of Asgard, an elemental force, soon to be the slayer of Laufey and all of Jotunheim, and she will be known as Asgard's fearsome warrior queen, beloved and dreaded by all. Their children's children will be kings, and nothing will stand in their way.

She will be queen. She no longer has a choice in the matter.

She is flying apart above him, coming undone, but it's that thought that pushes him over, the overriding knowledge of her glory, glory he will own outright. He crushes her against him, clinging to her tightly as his orgasm shakes him, breaks him apart. His moans are eaten up by her kisses, strong and demanding, and when he can think again, he gives as good as he gets, fighting back against the onslaught.

She lets him up, finally, carefully standing and adjusting her dress, her legs gratifyingly shaky. "If there's nothing more, my king," she says, carefully obsequious despite her sated, pleased expression. 

"I will see you this evening," he tells her, as he tucks himself away. "There are matters we must discuss." He looks her up and down. "At length."

"Of course, my king," she replies, smirking.

"You are dismissed," he says, waving a hand at her. She crosses her arm over her chest, bowing, and walks out, leaving him alone, stretched out across the golden throne of Asgard, his throne.

No, not alone. Merely unaccompanied.


End file.
